


Emotional Equivalent Molotov Cocktail

by Talinor



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Pining Keith (Voltron), the klance could be considered platonic if you wanted, with a tiny hint of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 06:06:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10870656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talinor/pseuds/Talinor
Summary: Don't cry,he thought irritably.Don't youdarestart crying right now, in front of everybody. Don't-A tear broke free despite his efforts and quickly made its way down his cheek to freedom. His vision blurred more.Dammit!But he could have dealt with it better, if Lance hadn't suddenly started paying attention to the fellow Paladin sitting next to him. The others carried on with their conversation, unaware of the internal crisis Keith was desperately trying to wrangle back before it got too bad."Keith," he felt a hand on his shoulder and heard a hushed voice surprisingly full of concern. "Are you... feeling okay?"





	Emotional Equivalent Molotov Cocktail

**Author's Note:**

> based on personal experience in class today when I started crying for no reason and the teacher was the only one that noticed (with any possibly romantic aspect removed ofc) had this idea and decided to run with it  
> i project myself onto keith more than I probably should   
> enjoy!

Anyone who knew Keith knew he wasn't a very openly emotional person. He knew that much was pretty obvious to anyone who talked to him for over 5 minutes.

It wasn't that he didn't _feel_ at all, like some people back at the Garrison gossiped about when they thought he couldn't hear exactly what they were saying. A few of the instructors thought so too, with the words _possible sociopath_ typed in the mental health box of his ID in the Garrison's database. It was left open for him to see once on Iverson's classroom computer while he was away. Keith hadn't meant to read it, but once he read those words he was a bit curious.

And very hurt, when he realized who it was about.

Despite what most people usually believe, though, he's not a robot. He's not a cold, unfeeling person without a conscience. The opposite was true, in fact. 

Keith felt things very intensely. He just didn't see a point in expressing his feelings or letting them drive his decisions. The right thing to do had to be done, no matter what cost. No matter how he felt about it. All his feelings seemed to do was cloud his judgement; make him doubt himself, even for a second.

In the pilot's seat, whether it belonged to a fighter jet or a sentient robot lion, doubt was dangerous. It could get you killed. And when the Universe itself could be at stake, self-doubt was out of the question. Just a second of hesitation could be the one to do you in.

That mentality helped him through missions. He kept razor-sharp focus throughout and tended to act first, ask questions later. Damn the consequences if it helped Voltron or their allies in some way.

It was a reckless mentality. But he was still alive, and his instincts helped save his teammates on more than one occasion.

After missions was a different story. Anger and frustration came easily to him then _(especially_ when Lance was involved). He needed a way to vent it all out whenever he needed to. Something that didn't end with him bleeding in the bathroom or facing Shiro's disappointment.

The training deck was the perfect solution. Whenever he wanted to, he could place himself back into mission mode. After all, who had time to focus on anything else when something was intent on hurting you? Certainly not him.

If he could fight without his muscles practically screaming at him to stop, he was at the training deck. It was easy. It was simple. But most importantly, it was dependable. He never needed something he could always depend on more in his entire life.

That dependence came at an unknown cost, however.

The training deck had been closed for repairs after the Castle's last attack for three whole days now. Apparently the Galra hit it pretty hard.

He'd gone three days without venting, and he felt restless. He spent so much of his time training that he didn't really know what to do with his time now that his favorite option wasn't available to him. He felt frustrated at not knowing what to do, but he didn't really know how to express that. So he just kept it to himself best as he could.

It was probably stupid. The others would probably tease him about it if he told them, and he didn't really want that to happen.

Problem was, his calm facade was cracking. More than even he realized.

One minute, he was at the dinner table listening to the others talk about their lives. What they'd probably do once this mess was over and they could finally go back home. Back to Earth. It got him thinking about how the rest of the Paladins had families to go back to. _Lives_ to go back to. Lives where people definitely noticed they were gone.

Next thing he knew, he could see the blur creeping in the edge of his vision. His skin heated up slightly at the realization of what exactly that meant.

He quickly glared down at his bowl of food goo intensely, like this was all somehow it's fault. Like the goo was somehow so bad he was trying to blink back the approaching tears.

 _Don't cry,_ he thought irritably. _Don't you_ dare _start crying right now, in front of everybody. Don't-_

A tear broke free despite his efforts and quickly made its way down his cheek to freedom. His vision blurred more.

_Dammit!_

But he could have dealt with it better, if Lance hadn't suddenly started paying attention to the fellow Paladin sitting next to him. The others carried on with their conversation, unaware of the internal crisis Keith was desperately trying to wrangle back before it got too bad.

"Keith," he felt a hand on his shoulder and heard a hushed voice surprisingly full of concern. "Are you... feeling okay?"

"I'm _fine."_ he gritted out lowly, barely loud enough for Lance to hear. If only his brain could get it together and realize those words were true. He wasn't supposed to be crying at all, but apparently his subconscious had a different idea. Despite his best efforts, it only got worse.

He was getting angry about the fact that he was crying, and that building surge of emotion only made more tears join the first one's path. He fought to keep his breathing steady. If it stuttered, the others would find out pretty quickly.

"You sure?" Lance asked quietly. "Cause I'm pretty sure you're crying. There something you wanna talk about?"

"No," his voice wavered. "I-I just--" More frustration bubbled up at his borderline blubbering. He clenched his fist and shut his eyes tight.

 _Why are you even crying right now?_ he wanted to scream at himself. _You and your friends are alive, aren't you? What more do you possibly need? You literally have nothing to cry about. So stop acting like a pathetic baby and suck it up!_

Instead he bit his lip and stood up from his chair. Without a word to the others, he stormed off out of the dining room. He headed for his own room. If he was so determined to have an emotional breakdown, he didn't want to have it in front of the others. He needed time alone to pull himself together.

He huffed out an irritated breath at the quick footsteps racing to catch up to him. Without even turning around to check, he immediately knew who it was.

"Keith," Lance said, placing a hand on the same shoulder as before. "Wait."

Despite himself, Keith stopped. "Wh-what do y-you _want,_ Lance?" The stuttering breaths made it hard to speak. He wanted to sound as annoyed as he felt, but it wasn't half as intimidating as he wanted it to be when he said it. Before turning to meet Lance's face, Keith angrily wiped the tears on his face away.

Lance, surprisingly enough, looked almost... empathetic. There wasn't a bit of pity on his face. He looked genuine, like he usually did when he rarely gushed about his mom or one of his siblings back on Earth.

"Be honest with me here, buddy," he said seriously. "Do you wanna talk about what's bothering you?"

"Noth-nothing's bothering me." Keith told him. "I d-don't even kn-know _why_ this is happening." He crossed his arms. "If I did, I-I'd stop."

Lance hummed in consideration. "Maybe it's 'cause you can't train?"

"What h-has that got to d-do with anyth-thing?"

"You don't have an outlet, mullethead." Lance told him matter-of-factly. "So you bottle it up too much and-" He gestured at Keith openly. "Boom. Like a Molotov cocktail."

...Huh.

"Hey," Lance said. "Do you want me to leave you alone, or...?"

Keith, once again despite himself, shook his head. "Could- could you..." He looked up at Lance hesitantly. "T-tell me more? A-about your family?"

Lance blinked in surprise, but smiled. "Sure."

"A-and one more thing?"

He raised a brow. "What?"

"Don't m-mention this," he tried to steady his voice with limited success. "Ever."

"I'd never do that," Lance assured. "Not when there's better things to tease you about." To highlight his point, he lightly ruffled Keith's hair with a soft smile that made his stomach flutter.

Despite himself, Keith smiled back.

**Author's Note:**

> comments are always appreciated!  
> my tumblr: squishy--squish


End file.
